


Nor Should You Want To

by 2amEuphoria



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, hereeeeee’s why starring Malcolm’s family trauma and Dani’s guilt, holidays are a good time but also not a good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21830068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2amEuphoria/pseuds/2amEuphoria
Summary: It was a Friday night, mid-December, and they were in bed.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Ainsley Whitly, Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly, Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	Nor Should You Want To

**Author's Note:**

> “The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same nor would you want to.” ― Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler

“What are you thinking about?” She murmurs, breaking the silence.

“I could ask the same thing to you.”

It was a Friday night, mid-December, and they were in bed. The only sources of illumination came from their Christmas tree and the string of lights Dani set up against the semicircle window. Reflections of yellow hues danced in her eyes as she stared at him from her pillow. 

He sighs, and his gaze falls to her hand resting inches from his face. He intertwines her fingers with his own, trying to distract himself from the weight of the memory he’s about to share with her.

“Last time I was sleeping next to someone on Christmas, I was 9.” Not once do his eyes meet hers. She lets him play with her rings. “I was about to go to sleep, but I heard someone crying... It was Ainsley. ‘I hate that Daddy’s not here,’ she told me, ‘I want Daddy.’”

Her heart crumbles in time with the tears welling up in her eyes.

“What did you say?” She asks, though she regrets the question the moment it escapes her lips. What was she doing? She’s supposed to be the one to pull him out of the water when he’s drowning, not keep him submerged.

“I said, ‘I want him too,’” his voice cracks. “And I got into her bed and laid down next to her, facing the wall. And we cried, separate but together, until we heard our mother crying too, down the hall in her room. I got Ains up and we crawled into our parents’ bed and took up the space our father once occupied.”

A tear spills over; she can’t help it. The pad of his thumb meets her cheek and wipes it away. She rubs his shoulder, then his forearm, trying to reassure him that she’s okay, that _he’s_ okay, too.

“I’m not sure if our mother acknowledged us when we got in bed with her... And honestly, I’m not sure if we even acknowledged her-I don’t think I said a word, neither did Ainsley. But I know we all appreciated it just the same. Just being together, even if we were each dealing with losing him alone.”

He remains silent for a few moments, his hand now tracing patterns on her up-turned palm that he stole away from his shoulder. When he finally does look at her again, she can tell his mind has moved on, but his red face and watery eyes haven’t. 

“Now,” he clears his throat, “it’s your turn to tell me what’s on _your_ mind.”

She ducks her head. “Nah, it’s okay,” her voice trailing deeper into herself. “Not important, not the same.”

It’s important to _you, _so that technically makes it the same.” He reaches for her face again, fingertips in search of any stray tears he missed. “Tell me.”__

__After a long exhale through her nose, she speaks. “This time last year I almost lost you,” her voice is part whisper, part murmur, but mostly tearful. “I remember calling you for the millionth time, trying to focus over the sound of sirens. And then I’d hear your voice, and my heart would jump to my throat, only to fall because I realized it was just your voicemail message.”_ _

__She rolls her eyes, which only makes more tears trail down her cheeks (tears that he immediately catches, of course), before a humorless laugh escapes her. Was she laughing at how emotional she was getting? Laughing at how uncomfortable she felt sharing something that wasn’t nearly as traumatic as his story? She has no idea, but she knows he doesn’t care; he’d never judge her._ _

__“I just... It was really, really scary. I realized how much you meant to me, how much anyone’s meant to me since everything that happened with my family, how much I didn’t want to _lose_ you.” Her voice breaks at the end of the last sentence, chipping apart with each second she’s stuck reliving the past. _ _

__But he’s there, her anchor, keeping her from slipping further. His arms know just where to link themselves around her frame, his hands know which is responsible for pulling her head against the crook of his neck and which should run the length of her curls. She catches herself at the end of a sob and realizes what he’s doing, and immediate regret washes over her._ _

__“I-I- I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make this about me,” she whimpers, her arms and hands seeking ways to comfort him in return. “This should be about you. I should be comforting _you._ ”_ _

__“Something Gabrielle taught me,” he muses as he strokes her hair, “is that suffering’s not a contest. We all end up with shitty prizes at the end.”_ _

__For the first time all night, the laugh that comes out of her is genuine. “She said _that_ thing at the end? About the shitty prizes?”_ _

__“Well, no- I added that part on my own. The woman doesn’t even say ‘dang,’ and I think the world would collapse if the naughty ‘S-H-I-T’ word came out of her mouth.”_ _

__He’s so relieved that the tears he can feel on his chest are her tears from laughing, not from crying. She settles, and he kisses her forehead._ _

__“Guess we don’t have great memories of the holidays, do we?”_ _

__She gives him a soft smile in response before wiping her eyes. “Nah. But I’m a big baby; you’re the one-“ he gives her a look like he’s about to bring up the whole “suffering’s not a contest” speech again, so she purses her lips and, at least for now, lets it go._ _

__“Well, that was then,” he says, getting lost in the bright twinkles swimming in her eyes, “this is now.”_ _

__“Another great Gabrielle-ism. Ideal timing.”_ _

__“Thanks, I try to at least keep some of what she says to me after I leave her office.”_ _

__The lie there, tangled in sheets and limbs, before one more “sad family-related” thought crosses her mind._ _

__“You know, there’s this quote that my grandmother taught us-well, my dad, my siblings and I-after my mom passed. It was ‘You will be whole again but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same, nor would you want to.’”_ _

__“...Wow, Dani. That’s beautiful.”_ _

__“Right? It’s always stuck with me, after everything that’s happened in my life...including this time last year, when I thought you were gone for good.” Her eyes won’t meet his, but she knows he’s carefully watching her._ _

__“I agree with this idea. ‘You will never be the same. Nor should you be, nor would you want to...’ It’s true.”_ _

__“Right?” She pipes up. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”_ _

__“We’re not the same people as we were last Christmas, or every holiday before that, but why should we be? Why would we want to?”_ _

__All she can offer in return is a shrug. She’s too busy inhaling the smell of his cologne and appreciating his presence to be philosophical-not at this hour, not after crying so much._ _

__Malcolm repeats Gabrielle’s mantra-“that was then, this is now”-as the pair settle into the idea of not being the same since all that had happened to them-“nor should they be, nor would they want to.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> The holidays haven’t been all that wonderful for me in the last year or so. Writing this helped significantly. 
> 
> Yes, I am definitely off hiatus, and the rest of my planned fics/your requests will indeed come soon!


End file.
